


Custom Made

by Choke-a-Bro (Vanya_Deyja)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:46:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22171252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanya_Deyja/pseuds/Choke-a-Bro
Summary: Ignis assures Prompto he's one of a kind, regardless of any evidence to the contrary.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 12
Kudos: 135





	Custom Made

Prompto finds himself sitting up when Noctis and Gladio slink off to sleep in the tent. He tries to play on his phone, mind churning, but his thumb keeps drifting to rub under his wristband at it.

 _The barcode_.

It’s like he keeps hoping it’ll just rub off one day. It never does but some animal part of Prompto keeps hoping it will.

He can’t help but be a little rattled that some of the bases in the Empire still accept this code, his code, as an access pass.

“You’ll hurt your skin, Prompto.” Ignis murmurs without looking up from where he’s writing in his little black book.

Prompto flinches, unsure how to digest being caught. He slumps, tying to coil his hands up away from his wrist, but he just wants to rub it more now.

“I know I’m no Noctis,” Ignis says quietly, “but you can talk to me if you’re ever troubled, Prompto.”

“I just…” Prompto takes a deep breath and laughs like he’s going to throw up. “I keep thinking about it.”

“I imagine it must be confronting.” Ignis nods patiently.

“Did you know MTs are genetically identical?” Prompto laughs in that same uncomfortable way, holding his wrist up for inspection by the fire light. He’s drawn to its gravity. “I’m exactly the same as all of them. Like twins but way grosser. They made me, not even custom, just generic. I was made to be some mindless meat puppet. Follow orders, kill what I’m told, die when I’m told…”

Prompto’s so lost in his thoughts he doesn’t realise Ignis has stood up. He doesn’t even notice Ignis is moving until Ignis grabs his wrist hard and leans over his seat.

“Look at me.” Ignis orders, low and curt.

Prompto’s eyes break away from his wrist and, for a second, he’s frightened.

“You are Prompto Argentum of Lucis.” Ignis rumbles down to him, holding his wrist tight, blocking out the barcode entirely with his gloved hand. “You speak the language of our people. You worship our gods. You were reared on our blessed soil, within the cradle of the Wall no less. You are an elite Crownsguard. Hand picked to serve at the side of his Highness, Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum. You have been entrusted with the life of the Chosen King of the Crystal. The Chosen who _loves you_ , above all others, and who has loved you since you were little more than children.”

Promtpto can’t seem to remember how to exhale under Ignis.

He fumbles, lips pursing, throat swallowing.

“That is who you are.” Ignis’ fingers flex around his wrist. “I don’t care if the blood inside you is green or orange. It doesn’t matter. Do you think this little thing, this mark, can erase all that history? That truth?”

“I…” Prompto sags, a strange, cold-thick, relief seeping out of his gut. “No,” he whispers. “That’s… that’s my story.”

“That’s right.” Ignis eases softly, grasp uncurling from Prompto’s wrist to lace their fingers. “You are one of us, Prompto. You couldn’t be more Lucian if you tried. You belong here. You belong with us.”

“I guess I’m just…” Prompto squeezes Ignis’ hand. “I keep having this awful nightmare they’ll steal me back.”

“It doesn’t matter what’s written in your blood, Prompto,” Ignis promises. “No machine, no infection, could erase your heart and soul. They wouldn’t be able to make you like those pawns if they had a thousand years.” 

“Right,” Prompto nods, letting the certainty take root inside him.

“Let’s go to bed,” Ignis slips his other hand around Prompto’s scruff, kissing his forehead. “A well rested mind makes every problem seem smaller.”

“You’re the best, Iggy,” Prompto murmurs, letting the man pull him onto his feet.

“Not at all,” Ignis diverts. “I’m just not immune to caring about you very much.”


End file.
